Captive Pt 01 1

Princess Philomene is taken from her home and added to the King's Harem. Multipart series/work in progress

Captive

I:

The throne loomed large at the far end of the long chamber. The hall was lined by cedar pillars festooned with the banners of conquered foes while courtiers, servants, and dignitaries milled about in finery. The king sat in a throne of ivory, intricately carved and adorned with gold. He was solidly built, muscles rippled beneath dark skin that glistened in the flickering light that emanated from bronze braziers. A leopard skin draped over a powerful shoulder, he wore simple sandals of woven grass on his feet. Aside from the gold necklaces that adorned his mostly bare chest he wore nothing else.

Philomene was naked save for her chains. A heavy iron collar encircled her neck, with two thick chains connecting to the harsh manacles that bound her wrists and a leather leash, held by a tall, striking, dark woman in a gown of lilac gossamer silk. Meyre, the Steward of the Royal House, had prepared Philomene for her exhibition. Servants had first scrubbed her olive skin with salt, then anointed her in fragrant oils and combed her thick mass of dark hair. Then she had been dragged into Meyre's chambers. Philomene still remembered her words, their harsh nature belied by the soft lilt of her Askani accent.

"You are no longer a princess." she began. Her words had been matter of fact, as if she were discussing the weather and not the upending of Philomene's entire world. Meyre, just as casually, reiterated the terms of the deal that had seen her plucked from her home, her family, and everything she knew, and landed her in the palace of a foreign king chained like a common slave. Hostage. That was the word she used. Her father, the once proud Archon of Itherea, had agreed to pay a tribute to King Rozan ars Karaka and his Askani horde in exchange for lifting the siege on his city. At Rozan's insistence, his youngest daughter had been part of the bargain. Philomene had been transported by ship, along with chests of gold. When she had been unceremoniously locked in a small room in the servants' quarters and fed a meager diet of gruel and tepid water for nearly a week she had surmised her life as a princess was over. When Meyre went on to tell her that her role was now to serve the pleasure of the king, she had assumed she was to be some sort of servant. But Meyre set her right quickly.

"Your body is no longer yours, it belongs to the king. He will use you as he wishes. Accept your fate and serve dutifully and you will live a long life. Please him and you will live the life of a well kept pet. You be given lavish quarters, food, and wine to your heart's content."

Philomene raised her chin defiantly, though she knew better than to speak. Perhaps it was her nakedness, or the heavy chains hanging from her neck, or the mocking laughter in the steward's brown eyes. Meyre laughed.

"As I expected, your first instinct is defiance. You are a princess, no man's pet. But, as I said, you are no longer a princess. I will demonstrate."

With a flash, she struck Philomene across the face. The blow was hard, hard enough that she saw stars.

"I could not so strike a princess without consequence. Where I to have lain a hand on you in your father's court in Itherea I would lose that hand. But-" she gestured around the chamber, "See? No one comes to your aid". The steward returned to her cushioned couch, crossing one long brown leg over the other as she waited for the lesson to sink in. Philomene nodded, her green eyes full of tears. Meyre slowly and deliberately reached for a little copper bell on the table in front of her.

"In case that demonstration was insufficient, I will show you another pet who thought she was a princess."

She rang the bell. Within seconds, a woman entered the room. Like Philomene, she was naked and collared, though her hands were unbound. Her dark skin was oiled in the same manner as Philomene's and she was shapely, tall and curvy with ample breasts and a round firm ass that jiggled when she walked. Her head was shaved and her full lips were rouged, her brown eyes lined with dark kohl. Her dark nipples were pierced with gold rings and connected by a thin gold chain.

"This is Alara ars Samran, she was once Queen of Samranhil, of higher birth than even you. She was given as tribute to the king some years ago when her kingdom was conquered. She was in the same position as you, she served the pleasure of the king. But the pride of queens is deeply rooted. She was defiant. Speak girl, what did you do?"

"I spoke in favor of rebels against His Majesty while servicing the king at a council meeting. My mouth should have been filled dick but instead it was filled with defiance. These rebels had been my subjects but in my foolishness and arrogance I forgot that I was no longer a queen and spoke against my rightful lord."

Meyre nodded.

"What was your punishment?"

"I was removed from the king's service. My role is now to please the servants." she said neutrally.

"Alara lives in the quarters adjacent to yours. She is fed only bread and water. Anyone in the palace, even the lowliest of porters, may enter and use her as they wish. This shall be her life, until her beauty fades. She will then serve as a scullion until she is truly too old to be of any service whatsoever. Then she will be released, to wander Karaka as a beggar until she dies. Thus is the price of defiance."

Philomene gulped but Meyre continued speaking.

"However, mind that just as defiance is punished, so is obedience rewarded. You shall be presented to the king today. You will be brought to him before his court in his throne room as he holds audience. You are to be naked and chained, just as you are now. You will be announced to the court, using your former title, Princess of Itherea. Do not be fooled, this is not a courtesy nor is it for your benefit. It is to demonstrate the power of the king. After you are announced, I will lead you to the throne where you will kneel. You will service the king with your throat before the whole court and you will not stop until he is sated. Then I will lead you to your new chambers. Am I understood?"

Philomene nodded.

"And you have serviced a man before, with your throat?" Meyre asked. Her tone sounded almost kind. Philomene nodded.

"Very well. If you please the king, your accommodations will be most generous. If you do not, you will be share a room with the Queen of Samranhil" Meyre spat the title as if it were rancid meat but Alara did not flinch. She waved a hand dismissively and the former queen scurried out of the room with her head bowed.

And so Philomene found herself being lead through the throne room on a leash. Meyre brought her to a halt with a sharp tug as a herald, dressed in a long robe of red silk announced her.

"Presenting, Princess Philomene of Itherea, daughter of Archon Lydus III of Itherea!" he said in a booming voice. The assembled courtiers jeered, Philomene could almost feel the lustful gaze of several men on her nude body. Her face flushed with embarrassment as Meyre jerked her leash once again.

As she approached the throne, the princess got a better glimpse of her captor. Upon his throne he looked almost like a god. His face was handsome, strikingly so. His full lips were framed by a thick mustache and his brown eyes radiated power. The leopard skin was fastened at his shoulder with a gold brooch of fine craftsmanship, exposing a powerful chest and smooth, slightly rounded belly. His arms were heavily muscled and he wore gold arm rings over each bicep. His wrists were encircled by strings of freshwater pearls, a matching strand hung from his neck. He wore a simple gold circlet on his head and his hair was braided tight to his scalp with each braid culminating in a series of cylindrical gold beads that clacked when he moved his head. He was flanked by two fan-bearers, bearded men in kilts of white linen holding fans made from ostrich feathers.

Philomene bowed low before the throne, prompted by yet another jerk of the leash. She touched her forehead to the floor. Meyre bowed less steeply, as befitting her higher rank, and then handed the leash to one of the fan-bearers who passed it to the king. Philomene felt a slight tug on the leash and crawled forward on her hands and knees until she was just before the throne. Tentatively, she placed her hands on the king's powerful thighs, breathing in his perfumed aroma. She tried to block out the crowd of courtiers behind her, her future depended on one thing: her ability to please the man before her. She lifted the bottom of the leopard skin. The king was not wearing any undergarments and his substantial manhood was bare before her. Even unaroused, it was massive, entirely different than that of the young nobles who had been her lovers back in her father's court.

The king spoke, but not to her. Instead he addressed the whole court. His voice was soft but authoritative. He went about the royal business as if Philomene did not exist, bidding the next supplicant to come forth. But Philomene could tuned out his words, instead, she timidly moved her hand from his thigh to his dick. She stroked along its length, pulling the bulbous head into her mouth as it hardened. It was as thick around as her wrist, long and heavy. She quickly enveloped the head with her full lips, taking the meat into her throat and trying to forget the eyes on her. She knew the whole court had a view of her ass.

She continued to throat the king's dick, bobbing her head back and forth as he spoke with some minor official about an irrigation project on the northern coast. It was impossibly large when fully erect, she could scarcely fit more than a third of it down her gullet, try as she might. In her former life, she knew that it brought a man great pleasure when she throated his full length. She had done it before in her dalliance with a prince from the city of Metharos when he visited her father's court.

But despite her best efforts, she could not fit the king's thick shaft down her throat. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs before making one last plunge, stretching her lips as much as she could over the velvet skin of the king's veiny member. He let out a slight moan, his attention broken slightly. As she redoubled her efforts, she felt a strong hand grasp the back of her head as the he thrust upwards. She gagged but his grip was iron. Using her mop of black hair as a handle, he jerked her head back and forth against his thrusts, using her mouth roughly. Her hand instinctively went to his balls, now slick with her drool, massaging them as he took her mouth over and over again. She felt them tense and with a groan, unloaded in her mouth. His seed was warm and plentiful, flowing into her mouth and spattering the back of her throat.

As he yanked her head off of his dick, she sputtered and several drops of cum splashed on the marble floor. Still holding her by the hair, he jerked her head back until she was looking up at his face. His expression was inscrutable. There was none of the tenderness of a lover that she had seen with some of her lovers, nor was there lust. He appeared almost impassive, but there was a flicker in his eyes. Disappointment? Philomene's heart sank. Her future depended on her ability to service this man, to make him value her enough to keep her as his personal pet. She did not wish to be given over to the servants like Alara. She kissed the head of his dick, almost desperately, cleaning the last drops of seed from the tip. He pulled her away by the hair, he seemed to be relishing his ability to physically control her body. Then he slapped her.

The slap was casual, like a lion swatting away a fly. It was a dismissal. Philomene felt a slight tug as one of the fan-bearers took her leash and passed it back to Meyre. She began to rise to her feet but was yanked down again.

"Bow" Meyre commanded. Her voice was low. Philomene complied, touching her forehead to the cool marble where a few glistening drops of cum remained. Then she rose shakily to her feet and allowed herself to be slowly lead from the throne room. The herald once again announced her departure, referring to her once again as Princess. She felt the chorus of eyes roaming her body and became painfully aware of the cum that plastered her hair to her cheek.